


Two Good Men

by thewightknight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Early Morning Drinking, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Reminiscing, remembering canon character death, still with flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 19:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/pseuds/thewightknight
Summary: Tony was going to go to bed at a reasonable (for him) hour, but there Steve Rogers was, drinking root beer schnapps of all things, on the balcony of Stark Tower at three A. M. in the morning.





	Two Good Men

**Author's Note:**

> My child discovered her bff has only seen two movies in the MCU and has taken it upon themself to educate said friend. We started with Iron Man and Captain America today and the child turned to me and asked "Do you think Tony and Steve ever talked about Abraham Erskine and Ho Yinsen with each other?", so I had to write it.

Tony quit early for once. Well, early for him, at least. There was no hint of dawn on the horizon when he left the lab. There was a pale spot on the balcony outside the main common area, though. Rubbing his eyes, he squinted, then rubbed his eyes again. Why Steve Rogers was standing outside, barefoot and in one of his too tight t-shirts, at three A.M. in the morning, was a mystery he could have left unanswered until he’d gotten some sleep and then a pot or two of coffee, but he could never leave a problem alone without poking at it.

“Hey, Capsicle.” Steve didn’t turn, or look at him, when he spoke. Considering it was March in New York and how high up they were and how long Steve had been out here, that particular nickname might not have been the best choice. There was a bottle on the ledge next to him and he held one of Tony’s crystal lowball glasses, half filled with some dark liquid. “What’s the occasion?”

Steve didn’t answer. Crossing over to him in a few steps, Tony picked up the bottle, squinting at the label. “Root beer schnapps? Seriously? I’ve got a whole liquor store of quality stuff at the bar and you go out and buy this?” Sniffing at the neck, he winced. “I’ve got better cough syrup in the bathroom, too.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Steve said, draining his glass in one gulp. He didn’t wince – Tony gave him that. Tough stuff, Rogers was.

“I don’t think I want to know the answer, but why are you drinking drain cleaner right before dawn?”

“Remembering someone.”

“Someone with horrible taste in booze.”

Steve huffed, a not-quite-laugh, as he poured out more of the sludge. “It’s one of those things that was better seventy years ago.”

“Not hard, there.” Grabbing the glass out of Steve’s hand, Tony brought it to his lips but couldn’t bring himself to drink it. He wouldn’t have hesitated ten years ago, but he liked to think he’d grown up a bit since then, and here he had proof, what with not drinking horrible cheap alcohol and all. Letting his hand fall, he put the glass on the ledge next to the bottle.

“The night before this,” and Steve gestured at himself, “he brought a bottle to the barracks, but he wouldn’t let me have any before the procedure.”

“Who did?”

“Abraham Erskine.”

Tony knew the name. He’d read about Erskine and his serum, in Howard’s files and while reviewing Banner’s research.

“We were supposed to have some after. And then he died the next day.” Steve reclaimed the glass but didn’t take another drink. “He made me what I am and didn’t get to live to see it.”

And suddenly Tony was remembering another man, a man in a cave in the desert who’d saved his life twice over. “Give that back,” he said, taking the glass from Steve, and this time he did drink, and it tasted worse than it smelled and burned all the way down. That was why he teared up at the corners of his eyes. No other reason, not at all.

Steve refilled the glass but didn’t try to take it away from Tony, unfortunately.

“When I first met Erskine, he told me they had so many big men fighting the war, and maybe now what they needed was a little guy. I’d never had anyone believe in me like that before. Well, besides Bucky, but he’d know me my whole life.”

“Knew a guy like that once. Told me some truths that made me think.” That one drink shouldn’t have loosened his tongue that much.

“Oh, like what?”

“He told me I was a man who had everything, and nothing. Oh, and not to waste my life.” Maybe another drink wasn’t such a bad idea. One swallow and Tony reconsidered. “You know the first one of these,” and he pointed at the center of his chest with the little finger of the hand that held the glass, “was powered by a car battery? He did that.”

“Sounds like quite a guy,” Steve said.

“So does yours.”

“Ever wonder what the world might be like if they’d survived?”

“Maybe. Sometimes.” Tony took another drink out of habit, muscle memory betraying him. “This is really horrible, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. But sometimes you gotta, you know?”

Tony did know. “Okay, we finish this bottle and then have some Irish coffees while we make breakfast. Deal?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Steve refilled the glass and Tony handed it back to him.

“Your turn. Matter of fact, most of them are going to be your turns, because you can’t get drunk and I need to save my liver for the good stuff.”

Shaking his head, Steve took it, tossing it back like it was water. “When we do this again next year …”

“If. If we do this again next year,” Tony interrupted.

“When,” Steve insisted. “You can try to track down some better stuff. He said his was made in his hometown. Augsburg.”

“Augsburg. Right.” If the distillery wasn’t there anymore, he’d rebuild it. Why not? “Here, give me that.” Tony grabbed the bottle and took a swig. “Jesus. This doesn’t get any better.”

“That stuff doesn’t, but other things do.”

“Do you normally get philosophical when you drink schnapps? Because if you do, we are not doing this again next year.” The fact that he was planning on their being a next year, expecting that Steve would still be around, that he wouldn’t have chased him off, almost made him take another drink.

“I promise to keep the philosophizing to a minimum from here on out.” Steve took the bottle back, filled his glass, and took half of it down with one swallow.

“All right then.”

There was still no hint of color above the buildings when the last drops were drained. Before they went in, Steve gave Tony one of those too serious looks that always made him squirm.

“Thank you, Tony.”

“For what? Sparing you from downing an entire bottle of toxic sludge all by yourself?”

“Well, that too. But also for being here with me. Makes things easier, you know?”

Tony did, but admitting it would be owning up to having feelings. “So, breakfast. I’m thinking chicken and waffles. And bacon, because no breakfast is complete without bacon.”

Steve gestured for him to go in but still managed to get ahead of him and hold the door, which he didn’t need to do because there were sensors and it would stay open without a supersoldier doorstop, but it was a nice thought, and he was having lots of nice thoughts about his resident supersoldier and they were distracting and he needed to bury them in boozy coffee and bacon.

“So how many pounds of bacon do you eat in one sitting?” he asked as Steve followed him to the shared kitchen.

Steve grinned and winked. “I don’t know. How much do you got?”

The banter continued as they cooked and a warmth pooled in Tony’s belly that was absolutely caused by the high-octane soda they’d consumed. The floaty feeling was from the coffee, and had nothing to do with how seamlessly they worked together, their partnership in the field helping each of them anticipate the other’s needs and movements around the kitchen. The little electric jolt he felt whenever they brushed up against each other meant he needed to check the wires on the arc reactor and wasn’t caused by any silly physical attraction.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Tony,” he muttered as he flipped the bacon.

“Telling yourself what?” Steve asked. Stupid supersoldier hearing.

“Next time I need to have JARVIS buy twice as much bacon.” As a save it was pretty poor but Steve didn’t press.

“You know, Tony, we don’t have to wait until next year to cook breakfast together again.”

“Why Cap, that almost sounds like a proposition!”

“Does it?” Steve had his most inscrutable of faces on, but it was spoiled by a tiny twitch at one corner of his mouth, and wasn’t that interesting? But it wasn’t something he should try to puzzle it out on top of no sleep, bad booze, and coffee with slightly better booze. Not this morning. But maybe next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to say hi, [check out my profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/profile) for where I’m currently hanging out on this here internet thing.


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